Holding On To You
by stilessttilinski
Summary: "Okay," Isaac grins teasingly, and Scott thinks he can't look directly at his smile because there is a likely chance he will lose the ability to voice actual words. - Scott/Isaac, background Stiles/Derek.


It isn't the worst idea they've come up with, by far, but the very idea seems to repulse Derek even more than the time Scott and Stiles suggested he get a pet.

Granted, that idea was more geared toward Stiles wanting to get a picture of Derek cuddling a bunny, but still. Valid idea.

"No." Derek says to them without looking up from his book, titled 1000 Ways to Maim Someone Without Killing Them. Like that's fooling either of them. Scott totally knows what he's really reading; he's seen the receipts (Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul).

"Just hear us out!" Stiles says indignantly, and because Derek obviously has some sort of soft spot for him, he puts his book down. Scott is only a little bit offended. It's kind of obvious what's going on here, and Scott definitely doesn't want to take part in that.

"I'm listening. Get on with it," Derek gestures to his book, "I have important research to do."

Scott almost opens his mouth to protest, but,

"Okay, so, I know we already said it and you were all, no and whatever, but there are so many reasons you should!" Stiles is a little too excited for a moment, and gets that expression on his face where he just mostly looks like he really, really needs to pee. "You have a pack now, and obviously that includes, y'know, me, and dude, we need a hangout. I mean, we're basically the Teen Titans already, okay, we need a place." Stiles pauses. "And you're the only with money. And like, legal adultity. Adultition?"

Scott gives Stiles a look, because really. Scott can tell when Stiles is nervous, and his heart is beating at a thousand miles per minute. He gives Stiles his get-your-shit-together look, and says,

"We could train there. It would be a lot better than your crappy –" Scott stops himself because Derek is looking slightly murderous. "uh, lovely home, because we wouldn't want to uh, ruin this. Right, Stiles?" He elbows Stiles, who follows obediently with a nod that makes him slightly resemble a bobble head.

Derek stares at them. "…okay."

"I knew you were gonna say no, and so…" Stiles produces a powerpoint presentation from behind him somewhere. Scott looks curiously behind Stiles, because out of what crevice did he just produce those papers from? "I have about 70 slides, and we can go through this or you can take the easy way out and just say – wait."

Stiles turns to Scott. Scott turns to Stiles.

"He just said…okay."

"Dude, I know."

"DEREK JUST SAID OKAY."

"I KNOW."

Stiles grins and flings himself at Derek, who is looking just a tad too pleased with himself as he pats Stiles on the back. Stiles is too busy whooping loudly to notice Scott shooting a thumbs up at Derek, who grimaces a 'thanks' back.

* * *

Scott heads home, satisfied, and is in the middle of Googling 'cabins in the woods' when Isaac comes home – Scott quickly corrects himself, back. When Isaac comes back. He's not sure why he thought 'home', and his brain doesn't feel like delving into it when Isaac is grinning at him widely from the doorway.

"What are you up to?" Isaac walks toward him and Scott quickly turns back to the computer as he slides into the space next to him. "I didn't know you liked Chris Hemsworth that much."

"I don't," Scott sounds confused. "I was looking for actual cabins in the woods."

"Type in Beacon Hills."

For about a second Scott looks at him like he's a genius, and then the embarrassment comes in and he sheepishly adds "Beacon Hills" to the end of his query. "I knew that."

"Okay," Isaac grins teasingly, and Scott thinks he can't look directly at his smile because there is a likely chance he will lose the ability to voice actual words.

He's obviously already lost the ability to think clearly when Isaac's thisclose to him, so. He probably shouldn't risk it.

"Why are you looking for a cabin?" Isaac asks almost hesitantly after a few minutes of silence.

"It's not for me," Scott replies breezily as he clicks on the next picture, which is a promising-looking cottage sort of thing. It does list in the description that there's a waterfall in the back, which is a bonus. He sends it to Stiles with a description just reading ':)' and Isaac nudges his side. "Oh, it's for Derek."

"…Derek?" Isaac looks like a very confused puppy. Scott knows what this looks like because Stiles says it's Scott's own default expression half the time. "Derek…Hale?"

"Yeah. We need a badass base for when we're, y'know, not kicking supernatural creature butt."

Isaac smiles. Luckily it's closed mouthed, and Scott figures it's safe to look. "Makes sense to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good. It was my idea." Scott puffs his chest out proudly, and laughter bubbles in Isaac's throat before he stands up and climbs into the bed. Scott remembers the first few nights of Isaac's arrival, when they had to have an awkward rock-paper-scissors tournament when deciding who would get the bed that night. (And yeah, Isaac got the bed every time, but that was only because he had a tell – who even has a tell in rock-paper-scissors, God – and Scott was concerned for his emotional health, okay.)

"Time for bed?" Isaac pats the empty side beside him and Scott shudders a little internally at the implication. He ignores the feeling, turns off the light, and crawls in next to him, pressed together from shoulders to hips to ankles.

"Who'd live there?" Isaac asks quietly into the darkness. Scott can hear the uneven beat of his heart, but pretends he doesn't.

"Anybody Derek's okay with living there, I guess," he replies carefully. There's a pause before Isaac speaks again.

Scott hears a tiny sound when Isaac opens his mouth, but no words follow.

"Yes," Scott says softly, answering the unspoken question, bumping his knuckles into Isaac's, "but I prefer you living here."

There's no reply, but Scott swears he hears Isaac's heart speed up, just fast enough for him to hear the stutter.

* * *

Scott is awoken by the sound of "Misery Loves my Company" coming from his phone, because Stiles thinks he's hilariousand assigned a Three Days Grace song to practically every contact on his phone. (Except Jackson, who got Primadonna Girl. Which, okay, that one was pretty funny, but Scott still doesn't appreciate "I'm Only Me When I'm With You" playing every time Isaac calls. He has yet to fix it; he tells himself it's because he's too lazy.)

"Hey, Derek," he groans into the phone, rubbing away the sleep. Isaac bats at his shoulder and burrows himself further into the blankets, and Scott lowers his voice obligingly. "What's up?"

"Stiles came over this morning and showed me the house. It looks fine. I'm buying it." He hangs up, because if anything, Derek is definitely one for brevity.

"Whuzz happenin'?" Isaac mumbles into the pillow, drooling a little bit and it goes to show that Scott is only at Panic Level 4 about finding it endearing.

Scott hastens to reply before he starts doing something stupid, like goofily smiling or something. "Derek's buying the house. Wanna go check it out later?"

"Mmf."

It's probably a noise of assent.

* * *

Scott is in the middle of typing his English essay when Stiles barges in. Isaac glances up from his sprawled position on Scott's queen-size, history notes scattered all over the bedspread.

"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you to knock?" Scott complains, getting up to shut the door anyway. "I could be having sex in here."

He gets an eyebrow raise at that (Stiles so learned that from Derek), and a suspicious glance between he and Isaac.

Scott's eyes widen and he frantically attempts to mend the situation, even though he can see the twitch in Isaac's mouth from here. "Not with Isaac! I just meant…generally. Sex. In general." He finishes weakly, and Stiles gives him his best dude-stop-talking-now-I'm-starting-to-feel-secondh and-embarrassment-for-you look.

"Riiight, okay, well, while the two of you were busy not having sex, I was convincing Derek to buy the house you sent me." Stiles stretches out next to Isaac, who rolls onto his back and effectively rumples all of his history notes. He doesn't seem to care all that much.

"It didn't sound like he needed a lot of convincing," Scott says, "what did you do to him?"

Stiles points at him a tad too enthusiastically. "See, that's the thing! I have no idea! I just stood in front of him and rambled a lot – shut up, he wasn't wearing a shirt, it was really distracting – and after like five embarrassing minutes, he just gave in. It was weird. I think the annoyance tactic totally worked."

"Somehow I don't think that's it," Isaac says amusedly. He twists around to look at Scott. "I think he broke Derek."

A sing-song teasing from both Scott and Isaac ensues, and Stiles leaves the room, grumbling something about getting normal human friends.

Pft. As if.

* * *

Scott figures the next day is fine to go visit Derek's new cottage ("Cabin," Derek had growled over the phone as if to assert his masculinity, or whatever.) and drags Isaac out at noon.

"Where are we going?" Isaac mumbles, still half-asleep even with Scott's fingers circling his wrist.

Scott says cheerfully, having woken up around 10:30 to spend the next hour or so prodding Isaac awake, "Derek's house!"

"Wait wait wait," Isaac comes to a stop at the front door, pulling at Scott's shoulder with his free hand. Scott turns, still beaming, and Isaac gets distracted for a moment by his stupidly attractive dimples. "Gotta get my scarf."

Scott lets out a little whining noise as Isaac scrambles to grab it, wrapping it around his neck in record time. His eyebrows do an "eh?" kind of wiggle and Scott makes an impatient noise of okay-we-all-know-you're-attractive, but Isaac sees the smile in the creases of his eyes.

And if Isaac notices Scott's fingers at his wrist again as they leave, he doesn't say anything, and if he in turn suggests they go to lunch before heading to Derek's, well, Scott doesn't mention it either.

* * *

Scott wonders absentmindedly how it's possible to look attractive while scarfing down tacos, but if he has faith in anyone looking attractive in any situation, it's Isaac.

It's probably the scarf, Scott thinks, deserting that idea all-too-quickly when Isaac licks languidly at his upper lip. Scott picks up his pizza, half-forgotten on his plate, and if Isaac can make him forget about the cheesy, meat lovers slice of heaven sitting in front of him, he figures he has a valid reason to be concerned.

"Why aren't you eating?" Isaac asks through his mouthful of pizza, and then sheepishly closes his mouth and swallows before speaking. And how is that fair, because Scott still isn't even remotely deterred from the idea of kissing that tomato sauce right off the edge of his mouth –

Inhaling sharply, Scott looks away from Isaac and stuffs his pizza into his mouth, wildly making an excuse in his head of overheating for the blush staining his cheeks.

When they're both done with their slices, there comes the awkward I'll-pay-no-I'll-pay exchange, and Scott stops protesting when Isaac physically places his hand over Scott's, mumbling something about a thanks for keeping him around.

Ha. Like not letting him stay was even an option. Scott voices this to Isaac rather sincerely, and Isaac ducks his head before Scott can see his expression, but he swears he sees the tips of his ears reddening.

* * *

Stiles calls Scott almost as soon as they step into the car, and Scott is busy pulling out of the parking lot, so he motions for Isaac to pick up the phone for him. Isaac fumbles with it for a bit before finally pressing the ANSWER button, letting out a breathless, "Hello?"

And since Scott has his super enhanced werewolf hearing, he can pretty much hear Stiles' confusion through the phone, if the garbled half-gasp is anything to go by.

"Isaac?" Stiles' voice is tinny but clear, "Why are you picking up Scott's phone? Also, why do you sound so hot and bothered, am I interrupting –" Scott's arm shoots out to grab the phone from Isaac, who's been looking steadily more uncomfortable as Stiles continues to talk.

"Stiles! It's me, dude, nothing's, uh, hot and bothered right now," Scott chances a glance in Isaac's direction, who is looking significantly less uncomfortable and more and more amused. Right now? mouthes Isaac, smiling, and Scott grumbles a little and swats his arm.

"Okay," Stiles says, "where are you guys? Can I come?"

"No," Scott blurts out and isn't sure why, because this isn't like a private thing or anything like that. "Uh, I mean, we're just going to check out Derek's. You can come if you want to." Scott is steadfastly refusing to even glimpse at Isaac, who is likely trying to strangle himself with his own scarf by now, because can Scott be any more obvious?

Clearly, Isaac isn't interested. Even if he does smile quite a lot in Scott's general direction, which, not thinking about that right now.

"I get it, man," Stiles says knowingly; Scott thanks the gods he was blessed with a best friend with highly intuitive skills and more than ten years of friendship to back his interpretations. "I guess I'll go help out – by help out I really mean bother – Derek; he said he was getting rid of some of his old furniture and stuff. See you later, bro!"

After Scott hangs up the phone, he reaches to turn on the radio and twiddles with the stations for a moment before stopping at that new – and slightly offensive, he's aware – Selena Gomez song. Isaac shoots him a look, and when Scott starts singing – or, rather, screeching – along, his eyebrows steadily get higher.

"Um," Isaac says, just before Scott starts belting NA NA NA NA at the top of his lungs, and Scott just smiles and looks adorable and Isaac is going to fling himself out of this car now.

"You gotta learn to have fun sometimes, y'know?" Isaac frowns a little at the implication and Scott seems to realize how he just sounded, because he surges through his next sentence.

"It's not that you're not fun, dude, I'm going for something else here. It's just," at this, his face hardens and his knuckles whiten visibly on the steering wheel, "we get so much bullshit thrown at us, and sometimes I kind of wish I, I dunno? Didn't get turned. And sometimes I need to jam out to lame songs and eat pizza when I'm supposed to be on a protein diet or whatever, just to. Remind myself, I guess. That I can be normal, even if it's only for a day." Scott sends a worried sort of look over at Isaac, like he's afraid he's said too much too fast. He starts apologizing immediately and slightly sheepishly, "Sorry, man, I don't know what I'm saying –"

"No, I get it." And Isaac does, he really does. He's not faking it; he's not sympathizing or pitying because he knows how it feels, to be too much and too little at the same time. Isaac knows how it feels when his teeth are lengthening and humanity's slipping away, and he knows how it feels to avoid a mirror until he's fully transformed back, and he knows how it feels to be trapped, with no way back, with no way out.

He isn't quite sure how to respond, because there's a beautiful boy in the seat beside him, beautiful but so very very frayed at the edges. Sometimes Isaac forgets this when all he can see is the white of Scott's teeth against his skin, and how his eyes flick downward when he's feeling shy, and the crookedness of his jaw. But it's there, underneath it all, just another high school kid who'd maybe sometimes like to play some video games instead of constantly deepening the worry lines on his face.

And Isaac, well, he's just the same.

If Isaac looks at Scott now, he'll see tense shoulders and this look on his face that says too many things and not enough. Isaac doesn't want to risk it, so all he does is turn the radio louder, and jump in at her next NA NA NA NA.

His ears turn red, but Scott laughs so he figures it's worth it.

* * *

When they reach the cottage, they're both freely and unashamedly belting Miley Cyrus (Isaac probably enjoys the chorus more than he should) and together they stumble out of the car, laughing so loud Scott thinks people could probably hear them from a half-mile away (and Derek could probably hear them from fifteen.)

"Ladies first," Isaac opens the front door, smirking, and gestures exaggeratedly at Scott, who sticks his tongue out at him but obligingly steps into the cottage. Isaac shuts the door behind him, and with only a mischievous grin from Scott and a knowing smile in return, they both sprint for the backdoor. They reach it at the same time, though Scott complains he was half a second faster than Isaac in reaching the doorknob, to which Isaac rolls his eyes and huffs a fine, because his hand is, after all, wrapped around Scott's.

Scott thanks him with a pleased smile, then pushes the door open to reveal the waterfall situated in what would've been a backyard. He whoops excitedly, stripping off his shirt quickly as he sprints toward the water. Isaac takes a moment to admire the fluidity of the muscles in his back before setting off after him, with one of those grins that he's sure will make his cheeks sore later. And if Isaac thinks about it, not very long and not very hard, he's sure he's never smiled so much in a day.

He splashes in after Scott, who's already soaking wet and shaking himself off like a dog, and Isaac takes the chance to tackle him into the water, sand slippery under their feet.

Isaac is acutely aware of how Scott's shorts cling to his every muscle, so he may get a little sidetracked when Scott jumps up and sends water flying everywhere.

"Catch me if you can," Scott says, wiggling his eyebrows, paired with that closed-mouth smile; Isaac thinks he would burn down buildings for that smile. The thought in itself should be worrying, but it's not, and Isaac catches himself running after him without a moment's hesitation.

He's chasing after that smile, probably, but not just the smile – the eyes, the sweep of his hair and expanse of his skin, the softness of the skin behind his ear and the hardness of everything else.

He catches him underneath the waterfall, with water soaking his curls and running down his face, hands sliding around Scott's waist, around his middle. Scott's laughing, even as the water clogs up his ears; Isaac pulls him behind the wall of water and presses him up against the wall, but at least they can breathe now. It's dark, or darker than it was, and damp, and in all honesty Scott's pretty sure he can feel slime against his back, but with the look in Isaac's eyes he can't even bring himself to move. He looks up at him, and Isaac is breathing a little too heavily, eyes darting from Scott's and dragging slowly down his face to his mouth.

All Scott can feel is the whole of Isaac's body pressed against him, in such a vastly different way than they'd been the night before. All Scott can concentrate on is the wetness of his lips and damp hands gripping him at the hips, and Isaac opens his mouth as if to say something but all Scott can think to do is close the distance between them.

The grip gets tighter, more possessive as Isaac remembers to respond, his eyes closing of their own accord. His tongue is sliding across Scott's lips, eagerly; he lets out a gasp when Scott opens his mouth almost immediately. Isaac licks into his mouth once, twice, and Scott is drowning in him, the hands which have dragged up his back and the lips so soft against his. When he thinks back to it later, he reconsiders his choice of words, because the feeling is a lot more akin to breathing. For now, his hands are roaming through Isaac's messy curls, pulling him closer, and they bump noses twice, but Scott can't even bring himself to laugh.

Isaac finally pulls his mouth away but leaves his forehead pressed hard against Scott's, and his eyes don't open for a while, but when they do, they're as bright as Scott's ever seen them.

"Guess you caught me," Scott breathes, and Isaac huffs out a laugh, the feeling of home settling somewhere deep in his smile.

* * *

**NOTES**: Please do not favorite without reviewing! :)


End file.
